


Re-Play

by bittenfeld



Category: Miami Vice, Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, M/M, Male Love, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Jack share a night of hot love… But things are not always what they seem… and Sonny offers what help he can…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Re-Play

**Author's Note:**

> based on the episode “Bushido” (warning: spoilers)

Jack looked much better now, Martin decided, better than he had when they had first set eyes on each other yesterday in the courtyard of the Buddhist temple.  Then, he had been transmitting a subliminal undercurrent of stress and tension beneath the warm greetings, although it hadn't really registered on Martin’s conscious mind, at the time.  Of course, Jack shouldn’t even be here now – something was out of kilter for him to still be here.

But he _was_ here, looking truly relaxed had happy, eyes clear of pain and sparkling with the subtle good-natured wit that Martin remembered so well.  And if Martin didn’t peer too closely, Jack even looked younger, almost like he had twenty years ago when they had first met at the Company academy… Madre de Dios, was it really that long ago?

But twenty years had indeed passed, and now they just stood together, allowing this moment of reunion to linger just a little while longer, wipe away the years of separation… to see each other alive and well again; that somehow, miraculously, they had each come through the devastating ambush of Mae Sai alive.  An intense emotion clenched Martin’s chest, a love for this man who had shared years of his life, good and bad, from the tight bloody battles against the Cong in Vietnam, and the opium growers in Thailand, to nights of tenderness and passion caught whenever possible.  And he smiled at his old friend as a warmth spread throughout his body.

Jack’s gaze looked him over fondly, finally came to rest on his face, while warm firm hands grasped his shoulders.  “God, I love you, Marty,” the man confessed unashamedly, eyes faintly sheened with moisture.  “Always have.”

Martin’s own gaze softened, as he admitted, “I love you too, Jack.  You know that.”  And he considered that this man standing before him now was one of only two people in his adult life whom he had ever truly felt that way about.   The other, his subordinate at the office, a man with his own troubles and emotional baggage who had come into Martin’s life not so long ago, and had warmed a spot in his heart.

“I know.”  Jack was watching him; and as his touch slid to the juncture of Martin’s shoulders and neck, the smile faded from his face.  “And I know you’re hurting now.  Please forgive me, Marty.  I never meant to hurt you.  But you’re the only one I trust, the only one I knew who would do it right.  I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you ahead of time.  If I had, you wouldn’t have done it.”

A bittersweetness stole over the warmth.  Of course, Jack shouldn’t even be here now.  He should be dead.  But he wasn’t.  Martin looked down, nodded.  “I understand.”

With the return of a little quirky smile, the other man cocked his head to catch Martin’s eye.  “Forgive me, partner?”

Under the gentle coaxing, Martin’s lips pulled again, gaze rose.  “Of course.  Always,” he acknowledged quietly.

The warm fingers at his neck combed up into thick hair at his nape, stroked fondly, while warm eyes peered so deeply into his soul.  The suggestion of intimacy lanced bright little tingles of light down Martin’s spine, and suddenly he wanted more than anything else in the world to know this man once more time, as they had known each other so long ago.  But of course that was impossible now.  Things weren’t the way they used to be, and never would be again.

Yet a little tug of lips and a little glint in the eye telegraphed Jack’s similar wants and desires; then one hand laid against the side of Martin’s face, and Jack’s gaze shifted to his mouth, and Martin needed no more hints to lean forward and meet Jack’s lips in a full kiss of greeting, inhale Jack’s breath deep into his lungs, wrap his arms around familiar contours of a body he would always remember.  And then Jack’s arms embraced him, and a questing tongue slipped into his mouth.

And then, somehow, the two of them were in Martin’s bed together; only, Martin couldn’t quite remember how they had gotten there.  Jack had never seen Martin’s house in California – he had died ten years again in the Mae Sai ambush along with the rest of their team… no that wasn’t true, Jack had survived, and he had come to California after all this time to find Martin, and it was so good to be together again… god how dearly Martin had missed him, and how good it felt to share a bed again and share each other’s naked warmth once more, and Jack was alive after all.

Contentedly Martin lay on his back beneath Jack’s weight, legs wrapped around Jack’s legs, arms around Jack’s body, while they kissed and kissed again, trying desperately to make up for six-years’ drought; and he knew Jack was alive because he could feel Jack filling him hot and tight, and Jack’s fingers tangled in his hair, and he could taste the warm wetness of a hungry mouth, and smell his lover’s scent… a scent so comfortably familiar even after all these years.  And they rocked together easily, with the familiarity of lovers who knew each other’s rhythms, and Martin felt the stinging burning pleasure/pain of the hot heavy bulk sliding in and out of him – the sensation so praeternaturally distinct – felt the rough caress of coarse pubic hair stimulating his own swollen bulk rubbing between their bodies as they drew each other upward to impending climax.  Their sweaty bodies slipped together as they humped, rhythm growing more intense now, more forceful; their breathing deeper, dragged from hungry throats; then Jack was tonguing the side of his neck, playfully nipping the tender skin – going for the jugular as he always did when he neared orgasm! – and Martin smiled, thanking whatever gods there be that Jack was here again, alive again, and they could take up where they had left off six years ago, maybe even live together once more.

His hand lifted to the back of Jack’s head, pressing Jack’s face to his throat, feeling the pinch of Jack’s teeth near his throbbing carotid, as Jack’s power-thrusts jerked his hips off the bed, slamming into him, hard, hard; and then his testicles pulled up tightly, and he surged over the top into the white light of ecstasy, shuddering spasmically, cock shooting several hot bursts of creamy fluid between their bellies; then Jack lost his own control, jerking and ramming and ejecting his load into Martin’s warm slick channel.  And Martin was writhing fervently beneath Jack’s weight, and Jack had not been lost in the ambush, and he was not lying dead on the cold polished floor of a Buddhist temple, heart exploded by a .357 hollow-point fired from Martin’s own gun…

“Jack!”

Abruptly Martin jerked awake in an unfamiliar darkness; surged up to a sitting position before he remembered that he was alone in his own office, napping on the couch because he hadn’t wanted to stay at home tonight.

Almost as a cruel mockery, his nerves still registered the lingering sensation of weight just removed, and in his undershorts he could feel a warm slick stickiness smearing his groin.  From the double after-jolt of climax and shock, his heart throbbed adrenalin-charged, and lungs gasped for breath, dragging near-whimpers from his throat.  He hunched there, elbows resting on knees, and had to reach a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to fight a hot sting threatening his eyes.  And all the while, his mind taunted him with the memory of Jack’s lips against his throat, superimposed over the blunt image of Jack’s body sprawled carelessly on the tiled floor, a wet crimson puddle spreading on a torn dark suit coat.

Over twenty-four hours since that instant of horror; and all during today, as he had done what needed to be done to fulfill Jack’s last request to get his family to safety, he had ruthlessly maintained iron control over his emotions.  But finally he’d had to return home and face himself in the aloneness, to try to meditate and re-balance.  However, home had not felt comfortable, so he had retreated to his office, shut out the rest of the world, and finally allowed himself to take a nap on the couch, though he knew the dreams would come, and he wouldn’t be able to prevent them.

In a few minutes, he’d go home.  There was no use staying around here any longer.  He didn’t feel any better here than he had felt back at the house.

A dim light lit the outer part of the office.  He was just about to get up and find out who else was keeping late hours, when Sonny appeared in his office doorway.

“Hey,” the blond greeted quietly.  “How are you doing, Marty?”

Tiredly Castillo rubbed a hand over his face.  “I’m okay,” he lied, feeling the utter fatigue of surrender weigh him down, and had to clear his throat of an accumulation of phlegm.  “What are you doing here so late?  What time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight.  I stopped by your house this evening to check on you – you weren’t home, so I guessed you might be here.”  Sonny strolled into the room, stood in front of the lieutenant’s hunched figure.  “Are you sure you’re all right?  I heard you call out a minute ago.”

“I’m all right.”  Again Martin had to clear his throat, then pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his lips.  The discharge in his briefs smeared uncomfortably in his crotch.  He would change, but not just yet.  It was the last gift he’d had to offer Jack.  Better that than a hot slug in the chest.

“C’mon, let me drive you home.”

A brief shake of tired head.  “I can take care of myself, Sonny.”

“I know you can, Marty.  But you’ve been running on reserve all last night and today.  Let me take you back to your house, or if you want, we can go to the boat.  You’re welcome to stay with me if you’d like some company tonight.”  Sonny sat down beside him on the couch, hands clasped between spread knees.  “Listen, would it help to talk about it?”

In the semi-darkness, Castillo stared down at the floor.  “There’s not much to talk about.”

Crockett nodded sympathetically, and shared the silence with him, then urged quietly, “You can’t blame yourself, Marty.  Your friend had metastatic cancer, and he wanted to die like that.  You did him a favor by helping him.  You just freed him from a living death.  Hell, there are a lot worse ways to go than by the hand of a friend.  I know if I’m ever that bad off, I’d appreciate Rico doin’ the same thing for me.”

“I suppose,” Castillo replied, and said nothing more.

For awhile Sonny just sat there with him in the dark.  There really wasn’t much to say that would do any good.  With a light attempt at comfort, the younger man laid a gentle hand on Martin’s knee.  “You two were really close weren’t you?  Partners?”

“Yes.”  A brief lull, then Martin chose to add, “We were lovers, Sonny.”

He felt the subtle reaction in Crockett’s body, although Sonny didn’t pull away, nor draw back his hand.

Instead, the blond nodded slightly, accepted the honest admission.  “Long time?”

“Eight years.  Before either of us was married.”  Damn, he could still imagine the lingering scent of Jack’s aftershave in the air around him.  The keen memory stirred his nerves.  “We worked undercover in Vietnam for military intelligence and the Company for six years, then both of us lateral-transferred to the DEA and spent two years in Thailand, working to disrupt the opium trade at the source.”  A tired sigh.  “We were all each other had.”

“Did the Company know you were, uh, sleeping together?”

“Yes.”  With a frown, the lieutenant squinted up into the half-light.  “They make it their business to know everything about their operatives’ habits.”

“Well, at least they didn’t try to interfere.”

The other man shrugged.  “What could they do?  We were too dangerous for them to let us go.  They couldn’t afford the liability of having either of us loose with everything we knew, but neither would they bother to take us out just for screwing together.”

“What happened?”

A tiny shake of head, humorless smile,  “The problem was, some of the opium trade was used to finance Company operations.  That, umm, led to certain… conflicts of interests between the DEA and the Company.  We were set up for an ambush… My entire team was killed, I thought he was dead too… Until two days ago…”

“… when you found out he wasn’t, then only to lose him again for real.”  A slow shake of blond head.  “Damn, I’m sorry, Marty.”

“Yeah.  So am I.”  A cruel pressure squeezed Castillo’s chest, threatening to choke off his throat.  He had to draw a steadying breath.  He could hardly believe that Jack hadn't just been here making love to him.  The lingering echoes in his body were almost to realistic to be refuted.

“Marty,” Sonny mentioned after a long hesitation, “There’s something I want to tell you… This probably isn’t the right time to say this, but… we’ve known each other for quite awhile now, and I just want to let you know… that whatever you need me to be for you, I’ll be…  If you ever need… anything… I’m here for you.”

Shifting his gaze to the man beside him, Martin looked him over, then asked directly, “Are you offering to be my lover, Sonny?”

Carefully Sonny decided to answer frankness with frankness.  “I’m saying I’m open to it if you ever want me in that way, Marty.  I know your friend was very special to you, and I know I can’t take his place.  I wouldn’t even try to.  But whatever I am, is yours… if you need it.”

“You can’t take Jack’s place, but he can’t take your either,” Martin responded quietly.  Sonny was obviously trying to help, and his presence did seem to absorb some of the icy weight burdening Martin down.  Resting a hand upon the touch on his knee, Castillo suggested, “What I’d like, is for you to drive me home now, Sonny.  And I could use the company, if you want to stay.”

Green eyes raised to his, and in the dark, he could see a little smile on the other man’s lips.

“Sure,” Sonny consented willingly.  “Sure, Marty, I’d be happy to.”

* * * * * FINIS * * * * *


End file.
